Dreaming of Consequences
by madwriter223
Summary: Post Season 4 Finale Wilson has a dream that opens his eyes. Blood and DeathFic, Heavy on the Angst


**Dreaming of Consequences**

Wilson remembered laying in her bed, in _their_ bed. But he woke up sitting by a window on a bus. A white bus.

Amber was sitting next to him, smiling sweetly.

"Hello James."

Wilson felt his eyes fill with tears, spilling forward as he wrapped his arms around her tightly, sobbing into her soft hair. He whispered words of love, regret, begging her not to be dead, meaningless words of affection, happiness and pain.

She returned the hug, wrapping him in her scent, her warmth. She held on for long moments, allowing him to take comfort of her brief return, then slowly moved back, standing up from her seat.

"I have to go, James." she smiled at him, kissing him gently, her hands on his shoulders keeping him from following after her.

"No, please don't!" Wilson begged, shaking his head in desperation, grabbing her sleeves. "You can't, please don't! Don't leave me again, Amber, please!"

Her gaze softened, and she pressed their lips together again.

"Shh, don't worry, James. I'll miss you too. But don't worry, it'll be okay now." she stood straight and looked forward, an unfamiliar glint in her eye.

Confused, Wilson followed her gaze, his eyes widening at what he saw.

House was sitting a few rows before them, smiling at him. Smiling in the carefree way he hadn't smiled in years.

"Hey there, Jimmy-boy." he grinned at him, and stood up. He didn't have his cane, and from the looks of it, he didn't need it anymore.

"How-" he wanted to ask, but House interrupted him.

"I'm sorry I fucked up so much, Jimmy. I know you hate me now, but I still want you to know that I didn't mean to kill her."

Hate him? Wilson didn't hate him. He was hurt, angry, but his professional mind knew that it was normal to blame someone for a great loss, no matter if they were to blame or not. It was a defense mechanism to deal with pain, it didn't mean that it was real.

Just as he was opening his mouth to remind that to House, he noticed that Amber was moving, walking closer to the other man. She smiled at the diagnostician, and wrapped her arms around him, tucking his head in the crook of her neck with her graceful hand, turning her head to look at Wilson.

"Don't worry, James." she smiled at him again, but this time the man couldn't help a feeling of dread settling over his loins, twisting them into an uncomfortable knot. "I won't let him hurt you anymore."

Wilson shot to his feet without even noticing it, stepping out into the aisle, but somehow he couldn't move his feet. "No, Amber. Don't take him." he said softly, his eyes pleading with her. "I won't survive if I lose you both. Please don't take him away."

Her expression turned sad. "James, don't you remember? I'm not the one who took him away." she removed her hand from House's hair, turning the palm towards him.

Wilson stared at the redness against her skin, and snapped his eyes to House, only now noticing the dark wetness trailing down his frame, the liquid seeping down his back, some even staining her shirt.

Blood.

"You did."

He stared horrified at the blood, at her sad eyes. He wanted to scream, to deny it, but he couldn't do anything.

He stood frozen as he watched her disentangle the older man from her front, tears welling up in his eyes at the sight of House's bloodied face with that same wide smile on it. And although inside he was screaming in doubled pain, he could do nothing when Amber slowly started walking away, pushing the other man in front of her.

"Goodbye James. I'll miss you."

"Bye Wilson. I'm sorry."

Then they were gone.

*~*~*~*~*~*

"NO!!" Wilson woke up, shooting up into a sitting position. His breathing was erratic, his eyes wild as he looked around the room. He wasn't on the bus, he was in Amber's apartment.

It was a dream.

But what he did to House wasn't a dream.

Oh God, House...!

He flew out of bed, tripping on the covers in his haste to get to his car. He needed to make sure House wasn't dead. Like Amber.

He had never driven so fast in his life.

*~*~*~*~*~*

He run into House's room, his eyes landing on his friend's sleeping face. The monitor next to the bed showed a steady stream of heartbeats, but he moved quickly to the other man's side anyway, fingers shaking as he pressed them to his neck. Only when he felt a steady _thump-thump_ against his skin did he relax, breathing out a sigh of relief.  
Thank God...

House's eyes fluttered open, blue orbs focusing slowly, too slowly.

_/Brain damage./_

"It's me, House. I'm here."

House frowned slightly in confusion, clearly not understanding what the oncologist was doing there. He moved his lips, a raspy whisper escaping him, trying to apologise like he knew he should, but Wilson shook his head, eyes welling up.

"No House, don't speak. Don't-" he slipped his arm under the other's shoulders, pulling him gently to his chest. "God, I'm so sorry, House. I nearly killed you, I'm so so sorry."

The diagnostician blinked, not fully believing what was going on. Was Wilson really here or was his brain messed up more than he thought?

Wilson pressed his face into the other's temple, the tears falling when he felt the stitches against his cheek. He could still hear the words spoken to him on that blasted bus. "I don't hate you House, I swear to everything important I don't hate you. I would never hate you, I never could, and I never will, I swear."

Another raspy whisper ghosted past House's lips.

"You did everything you could for her, for me. You didn't kill her, it was an accident, I don't blame you, I don't hate you."

He was bawling now, but he didn't care. He needed House to know.

"I'm so sorry, House, I really am. Please know this, you have to know this. Please don't die, don't go away. I don't hate you, it was an accident."

He wasn't aware that House was trying to touch him, but was too weak to do much more except lift his palm off the covers. He couldn't not notice when the other pressed his face closer to his chest, though.

This time, Wilson's tears were those of joy. He tightened the hug, whispering over and over that this wasn't House's fault, that it was okay now, and how sorry he was for causing such pain to him.

Over the side, at the far corner, Amber stood unnoticed by both men, smiling sadly.

With time, both of them would heal enough to be happy, together again. As it should be.


End file.
